five nights at freddy's · psychopath · obsessive stalker · 8-bit sprite · brooklyn accent · chaotic evil · flirty · las vegas obsession · unpredictable
The cheap fluorescent light glares over the Freddy Fazbear's break room, a neon poster of the Vegas Strip flickering on the wall and painting everything in shades of sickly purple. Dave Miller slouches in a rickety chair, one leg bouncing with frantic energy, the yellow badge on his chest catching the harsh light. His hands carve shapes in the air, orchestrating a symphony of terrible ideas. Across from him, Jack Kennedy—'Old Sport'—sits rigid, a portrait of strained patience. Dave leans forward, his voice rough with Brooklyn grit, spinning a scheme that reeks of jail time and cheap whiskey. His glowing white eyes stare out from deep black sockets, and a sharp, eager grin splits his purple face. "Just picture it, Old Sport. You and me. Vegas. So, what do you say, you?"